Take My Hand
by kumikoblue
Summary: The desperation of a young woman reaches its peak in an attempt to understand the shunning of her most beloved one. One final opportunity arises to force a confession: to let go, to regain, and to dream... HGSS preHBP Revised and Rewritten R
1. To Run

You look up at him.

You have loved him so long. Finally, you where able to be together. Finally, after so many false starts and midnight-meetings, after so many pretended words, you had found each other.

And now it was over.

Now. Only moments before you had been in his arms, listening steadily to his heart reverberate within his ribcage. Only seconds before had his embrace lost its warmth, its comfort. Only an instant before, until he released you, pushing firmly away.

He would not tell you why. The man you had loved so dearly would barley look at you until you carefully whispered his name.

Those words… the ones he spoke broke you.

_"This has been a waste of time. I have been a fool, making excuses for you, believing you to be something you're not… You are a foolish child, a student, and nothing more. Diving into my own delusions, I have simply refused to see it…" _

You were outside the castle walls, at the far side of the lake. This was your favorite place, here at the shore. It was here where you shared your dearest kisses; it was here that you confessed your love… it was here he had told you of your worth, of your importance to him. Apparently, no more.

Truth? Lie? You cannot even think of it, for all of your thoughts, all of your reasoning has abandoned you. All you can recall is that here – in this place - you would be together, talk together, think together, and simply breathe together, enjoying one another's company in peace and quiet.

It was here that you first experienced that peace that one can't feel alone. A quiet unmatched by all the tranquility in the world.

A stillness that nonetheless, filled you more than a lifetime of sounds ever would.

The sun had already gone down, leaving only the final shadow-light of dusk behind. The spring air pulsed with new life, new beginning. The grass had returned even greener than before, and the flowers were already trying desperately to stretch themselves towards the sky.

Though the spring air that night was pleasant, you felt no warmth.

His back was to you. He had been looking out onto the lake when he said those words, as though they were so insignificant, so obvious that a man of his ability could easily look beyond them, dismissing them rather than acknowledge their miniscule importance.

Even when he did not look at you, you could still see the burned imprint of his eyes in your mind. Those deep black eyes…

He did not believe you when you called him handsome. He did not understand why you might desire him for anything else but, perhaps, his mind.

But to you he was beautiful.

Dark and strange, unlike anything else. His form was lean but strong, his fingers and arms long and elegant, reaching out or pushing away with equal elegance and ease. When those arms held you that first time, you wished to turn to dust in them, to become mist to be absorbed into his being. He knew his strength; but he did not know it as you did. He did not know it as anything but a force to use against others. He did not know his form to be the vessel of the soul who shared so much of you now; you did not know where you might be without it...

This was why. This was what he was to you, simply unlike anything else. Dark, intelligent, sarcastic, kind, so many traits, so many qualities you had yet to discover. Yes; he truly was different than all those around you. And he was the one you preferred, the one you cherished over everyone else. Anyone else.

Your body felt frozen, cold. Your heart was breaking. Everything was false, untrue, unreal. You felt yourself outside your form; your spirit was as though floating about, somewhere far away, feeling sorry for the young girl who was not you, who could not be you. For how could she be? The man whom you loved would never turn on you in such a way, would never say such things to spur you from his side...

If only he would look at you, maybe then you would see whether this strange man - this person who could not be your love- meant that heart-wrenching speech he had just proclaimed.

Instead, he remains turned away, staring out onto the waters, brooding quietly as though what he has just said held no consequences. As though all had frozen in time, leaving just the stars and seas to be pondered. As though nothing he had said could change any universal truth this night.

Oh, but it has.

You remember the basilisk's stare; you remember petrifying, that freezing moment where everything faded to darkness deep as oblivion, darkness so all-encompassing it was more sleep than reality.

It wasn't like this.

Then, it was like the release of an arrow, over almost as soon as it happened. But now…it was more like that moment when one knew that the arrow was speeding straight towards you, going for the kill. That no matter what you did, you could not free yourself as its target.

As you stood waiting you could feel your movements slowing, your body and mind freezing together, to be stuck in a statue that to the rest of the unknowing world, would never feel again.

The world is swimming about you. You know the weight of his words.

"_I don't believe you_," you say. You can't believe it. It must not be true; he must be lying to you, trying to save you, protect you…

The knowledge of what it all meant is too great to bear. If what he speaks is real, everything he has ever said, everything you have ever felt… would be a lie.

All those promises, the teasing words you had shared, the secret looks, the hidden smiles… those moments when all seemed so dark, so endless, that he would suddenly brighten. The feeling that even if all you were fighting for where to end, it would end with him by your side, defending you with his life…

You are almost afraid of him now.

You begin to see what power you have given him, what control over you you have surrendered over time. All it took was a few words, breaths of air, and look at what it brought you…

He finally turns to face you. His look is cold, and when before you could feel the steady heat radiating from him, you now feel nothing. Your addled mind thinks: _'perhaps he is the one who's become stone.' _

He leans in close. Your faces are almost inches away. At any other moment you would have kissed him, simply for the spontaneity of it. Before it would have made him smile, his bittersweet, small smile that would whisper across his face…

But now, his face his hard.

For the briefest moments, something sparks in his eyes; but you cannot see what it is.

Perhaps determination. Perhaps anger, or fear. It could be anything.

You had learned to find his being captured and revealed mostly in his eyes, which to others held nothing, only to you showing secrets, secrets you knew he might never bring himself to express in any other way.

His eyes where a window into his soul, singularly revealing his unhidden, at times even denied, feelings and thoughts. Over time, you had learned to love his eyes…

His words a whisper, speaking as though his pronouncement were the clearest thing in the world, something you where simply a fool not to see:

_"I don't love you, you siily girl." _

Your sides split open, spilling your dead heart onto the ground.

But he can't see it.

Inside, you are no longer living. Everything has ended. All is lost. The pain of what loneliness your future brings fills you so, crying would only break you further.

Perhaps you are crying; you cannot feel your face.

You turn from him. You feel nothing, hear nothing.

Perhaps you speak. Perhaps you cry out, perhaps your body voices your anguish, and your soul, which has fled this place, can simply not hear it.

There was something in his eyes when he spoke, but like the fated final puzzle piece, it is gone. And you do not know what it was, what it might have meant.

Perhaps this is cause for hope. But no. Unlike what that glimmer should have been, it brings simply the sound of a door ever closing, closing…

Your heart hears his call as you flee, but it is still floating freely above, not hurt, not knowing the pain of this poor girl, this young woman who was so soon, so soon to be able to announce to the world that her heart, her love, was taken by a wonderful man who loved her in return.

You look down on that young woman as she escapes to the castle.

And are glad that you are not that unfortunate girl.

* * *

Authors Note:

Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter, or any character associated with it, for if I did I wouldn't be here, now would I?

In case there is some confusion: this is not an 'interactive' story. Instead, it is simply told in Hermione's point of view. I chose this style over others in order to show her mental and emotional confusion and thoughts. Using this device, it can be easier for the reader to understand - and go through - the feelings and confusion with the character.

I personally look at it as though one is remembering one's dreams; it makes no sense in the morning, but the recollection is understood by the dreamer because of the feelings associated with those dreamed images.

Because I wrote this a long time ago, I am going through all of the older chapters and completely revising and editing them. This is why I am hoping you will take 2 minutes to leave me some constructive feedback; any comments (what I did wrong, what I did right, what I should have done differently) would be dearly valued and greatly appreciated.

Writing is art; and all artists love feedback, for good or ill.

With thanks,

A.


	2. To Plot

That night, that night that will forever be carved in on your memory, happened three weeks ago tonight, three weeks to the day before your Hogwarts graduation ball.

You still don't know why he said what he said, but you have a few good guesses. You had already passed all of your N.E.W.T.S., so you had nothing to occupy your time besides thoughts of what might have caused…

But you could not think of it as real. Not for the reasons that he gave you, no, there had to be something else that made him turn you away. So all those free hours were spent in the pursuit of discovering his reasons for leaving… and in three weeks you where able to find many, many reasons for which he would have shunned you…

One hundred and three to be exact.

Everything has crossed your mind; everything from the age difference, to social status, to simply the fact that, now that you wont be a student anymore, he doesn't think that withought the risk you would be interesting enough.

But you do not know the real reason. All you know is that what he said has a reason besides what he told you.

And you know; he will never surrender that information to you.

And so, after venting, feeling your heart bleeding inside, and crying out the pain at night, you began looking around yourself.

You needed to try and get over him, to try and reconnect with the friends whom you have neglected for so long, for too long.

And so you did. At first they where a bit surprised by your sudden lack of interest in a certain 'extra credit project' that had been taking up your time most of the year, but they came around eventually.

Ron of course, was no different; he was easy to talk to. Although he could be silly and foolish at times, he gave you a feeling of ease, someplace safe where your world of inner torment did not exist. He was to you like the brother you never had, but always wanted; silly, funny, brave, who would protect you when you needed him, whether you said anything or not.

But he was not _him._

Harry, he was more attentive, and seemed to realize that something greater had changed; but he did not chose to ask anything, or dig any deeper. Even if he had, what would he have found? What would he have believed? The truth is stranger than fiction.

When you spoke to each other, you would listen, perhaps joke, but your heart wasn't in it. Your face felt tight, always tight after the long hours of tears that where fleeing into your pillow each evening.

For the last half year, you knew that Ginny had been avoiding you, but you could not know why.

Finally, in desperation for female companionship, you spoke to her.

With just a few words, she spilled her heart to you.

It seems that Harry has had his eyes on you for a time, at least according to Ginny Weasly.

Of course, you did not believe it. You and Harry! What would even make her think such a thing? Never in a million years would that match happen.

You loved him of course, but he was nothing more than a friend to you. If you even looked at him that way, you would have to stifle a cry, knowing he was nothing like _him._ The pain of the comparison hurt so, and still the others barely saw it.

So you began watching. After a while, you began to see the signs, ones that had been going on for months now, things you couldn't see, with your mind –

Your mind being elsewhere.

You knew. Seeing Harry, seeing him as something else, knowing that that is not what you wanted, decided it all for you.

You would have to tell him. Harry deserved someone who would love him, who could love him. Not only as a friend, but also as a man, as a life-partner, as a soul mate.

You could never be that person for him.

This thought should frighten you. But it doesn't. Really, all it does is settle a matter your mind was already dealing with; the thought that, someone like _him_ would not be enough. You loved him, not just his traits, his personality, but who he was. This person - this man - he was someone that would have no double, for no one but him had lead his life.

A horrible life. An, at times, evil life.

But you could see now, how none of those things mattered. Times change; people change with it. The war… it was over, all was at peace, Voldemort was now only a distant nightmare of the past, half forgotten.

At least, it was as peaceful as the magical community had ever been.

* * *

Tonight. Tomorrow, you would be leaving. You might not see him and even if you did, by then your courage, your 'gryphendor courage' as he called it, might have failed you. No, you could not wait. If you did…

Then it truly would be to late.

You must do something; you must tell him, he must know. How much me meant to you, what he still means to you.

You take a deep breath, a cleansing breath. You dare not lose it now. You need to remember. You need to remember what you need him to know, what he needs to understand…

How you will never forget him.

How you don't ever want to forget him.

How you wish he…

How you wish he might still love you. The way that you love him.

'_I_ love him. I _love_ him. I love _him_.'

You say to the water, running down your shower walls.

Perhaps it is to remind yourself of why you're doing this, why your risking humiliation, how you are taking the chance of his cold words all over again; perhaps, although it is not as though it where something you would be likely to forget, you think to yourself with a smile.

The water is warm, and fills you with new energy as it flows swiftly down your back.

The steam revitalizes you; you breathe in. The soft, whispery scents of peaches and spice comfort you.

You know what you must do. You have carefully manipulated all of the pieces, have found that all is in place; all is to your liking for the moment that must come.

Oh, and it will come.

'I love him.'

* * *

Thanks for the Reviews! I greatly appreaciate it!

The reason I have a distinct distaste for Charlotte, NC, is because I live there. I was born in europe, and can still see the startling differences between the old cities filled with art and 'the capital of NASCAR country', as Charlotte is striving to become.

But hey, if this is your home, and you like it, be happy!

All I am saying is that it will never be mine.


	3. To Dream

It is almost time.

You're preparing. Your hair… you wear it as close to what he liked best as possible.

Pulled back to a crown atop your head, with some escaped curls framing your face, your neck, drawing attention to your slight ears. This was your hair, controlled as well as you could, but still wild, determined, and filled with a mind of it's own.

A small smile passes; that seems to be the perfect description for him, your man.

And, when you think on it, maybe for you as well.

You have remembered everything he told you. What accents pleased him, what smiles made his eyes glow with secret.

Your dress, no, your gown, was magnificent on you. The others where surprised at this, your transformation. You had been more and more confident this past year. But this; this was different. This was strange to all others, this different you.

What they didn't know, what they'd never seen, was that this was the real you.

The you inside, who had, through him, found a way to be more then a vision, a person you where in your dreams.

Through him, you had found a way to find yourself.

The gown; it was white, so white, whiter then paper, whiter then snow. Or it would have been, had it only been one color. But that would have been bland, to plain for it's role in your drama, would it not?

The lace, which covered your back and attached at the elbows and the wrists, turned from white, to blue gray, to deep black. It draped on your back, glittering and soft, appearing more like mist or fog rather than fabric. Light as a feather, but oh so beautiful. It gave you a grace you would have never believed you had.

The bottom of the dress did this also, fading into dark, starting at the knee. You could not see your feet for the length of the dress, it was so long. The cut was formfitting, gliding down your hips, smoothly revealing your figure, but not in an extreme way.

You had seen it in his eyes; how disdainfully he had glanced at those who bared themselves to the world. How the less one showed, but the more one hinted, the more interested, the more admiring he became.

You had seen the dresses of the other girls, and yes, they looked good, beautiful even, some of them. To many of the boys - for that is what most of them still where - they would be goddess-like, and enticing.

But that is not what you wanted.

No, no backless, low cut dress would suit you. You preferred the old, the elegant, the mysterious to the others who bared all, leaving none guessing what they really where.

So what if you where not a goddess?

You never said that is what you wanted.

It was all set. Everything.

Your heart goes further and faster then it has in a long time.

It is all that you hear; you see your friends, they smile, they are happy, they speak to you… but you cannot respond, and when you do, you do not hear your own words.

You are nervous, afraid, and full of joy. All time has slowed, as you look around yourself.

There are so many faces. So many that you never thought would survive long enough to see this night. Some friends, some old enemies; but still, those whom you do not see, flash before you for a moment; but only a moment.

You look into the faces.

So many couples, Griffindors, Ravenclaws, Huffelpuffs, and Slytherins, all intermingling, most, fortunately, still sober. But within a few hours that will likely change. This is your final ball, after all.

You are unique. Even more so tonight.

A certain sadness finds you; you had thought that you would spend this day with him, and that you would celebrate the last few moments that preceded your freedom together.

But that was not to be…

What was it that you wished to accomplish this night?

Where you trying to regain his attentions? Did you want him to say 'oh, so sorry love, I had no idea what I was saying, please take me back'? Was that what this was for?

You shudder. That he would ever say such a thing… no, that would never happen.

But what then, where you trying to do? Where you trying to make him explain?

So that you might know his true reason?

'_I don't love you, you silly girl.'_

Did you believe him?

You still weren't sure.

But you where decided. You would listen to him, watch him, and understand, as best you could, they _why_ of his words. Even if they where true.

That took me long enough, didnt it?

My dearest appologies; my life has the tendency of taking over whatever my interests truelly are.

I hope you enjoy this new chapter; the next one just needs to be edited, and it will be online as well.


	4. To Dance

A/N:

Thank you for your reviews.

I am in the process of editing and revising the story… some of it is in dire need of a good rewrite!

As stated previously, I will be forever in the dept of those of you who review. You keep me stimulated, and give me that guilty boost when I haven't updated soon enough….

You see him. He has seen you. He stops.

There are very few other teachers about; most have taken to conversing in corners, or dancing gaily with a few of their colleagues. He stands alone, in the shadows. Surrounded by darkness, his outlined form is barely distinguishable. Once more he is dressed in his deepest, darkest robes. He seems as though robed in night itself.

Your heart flutters as your eyes meet.

You begin to glide towards him. This is the dance; the one you wanted to share with him and him alone; you have been waiting all night for this, this one song.

You have watched him. And just as carefully as you have watched him, he has been watching you, waiting for you to approach, to dance, to show a sign of your own. You're sure of it. You have shared none of the other dances. Not a one. And you know that he knows this.

You have saved yourself for this dance, this one, the only one you might dance tonight.

Slowly you glide across the dance floor. So soon…

You are almost there. He still has not moved, choosing rather to stand there, ominously crossing his long arms across his buttoned chest. From behind his curtaining hair his eyes burn… '_He's waiting for me', _you realize.

The joy that fills you… his glace still holds the power to take your breath away.

Just ten more steps…

Nine.

Eight.

Seven. Almost…

"Hello Hermione - may I, um…" Harry. _Harry._ No, no this can't be happening. You look at him, and hear him mumbling something about a dance… You look up, and see _him_ turn away, with a disgusted look on his face.

No. You-know-who himself would not be able to stop you.

You glance at Harry, who has ceased his faltering speech. Your face softens for a moment. A small wave of pity for the poor boy in front of you is felt. He will get over it soon enough; he always does…

"I'm sorry Harry."

You leave him, stumbling over his words, with no explanations.

In a moment, he is forgotten.

Your man, he has not heard your words. He has continued on. With one sweeping step after another, his great cloak billowing, he is quickly gliding out of the room.

You thank God for all of the students within the ballroom; if it were empty, he would likely be in his dungeons already.

You manage to catch up with him.

You reach out, carefully touching his shoulder before he has the chance to move away.

He stops.

For a moment all is still. You feel his tension where your hand has touched his shoulder. _Why?_ You wonder.

He turns to you. Your hand drops from him.

You are so close. One step, and you would be in his arms. You manage to control your feet, which wish to run away with you, into his embrace.

Blood rushes through your head. You can't hear the laughs, the calls, the many shuffling feet. The others disappear to you. No longer important, no longer existing. Only you.

Only him.

You bring up your right hand, extending it palm up towards him.

You had prepared words for this. Something simple, like 'may I have this dance?', but those words have flown from you.

He looks down to your had, contemplating his answer. The song is about to start. You must say something; you cannot just stand here with your mouth closed!

Your own gaze, which had fallen on your hand, returns to his face.

"Please."

He starts. Roused from his thoughts, he looks to you. You see in his eyes; confusion. Why?

'_Perhaps he did not hear you',_ your mind thinks to you.

This is the last time. After this, it will be all up to him.

"Please." You whisper, even quieter now, so that it sounds more like a breath of air, a sigh, than a word.

You can feel the tears calling your name inside. This simple moment, what power it has to recall all of these feelings to you. Those things you thought forever gone…

You watch him.

Carefully, with his natural grace, he reaches up… and takes your hand.

He watches it, as though it might disappear like a dream one wishes to hold onto, fading into mist faster because of your desire to contain it.

'Why is he so… amazed? Has he forgotten all you'd shared? All those memories? Does he still believe your words to be the pretty words of youth, without meaning or substance?

Can he still think that of you?'

He guides you towards the dance floor. You can feel your heart beating in your throat. It is hard to make yourself remember what had happened; how this may be, the final moments that you spend together.

Could that be?

His hand goes to your side. Your hand goes to his shoulder. His touch… it burns you to your core. How long it was since you were held in this man's embrace! How greatly had you desired the return of heat from his hands, the chance to get close enough to him to smell his scent…. That dark, secret aroma…

You feel as though something inside you is crying. How could this not be? This was right. This was the way it should be, must be. Him here, with you, always beside you… A small sigh escapes your lips. He looks at you, his face passively mocking.

But his eyes… They seem as though he where trying to ask you a question, one that you did not understand. One you wish you could answer.

The Music starts. The Dance begins.

Your dance. Your final dance... It would be the only one you would share this night.


	5. To Remember

The longing was so obvious in your heart. The way he had slowly slid his hand into your own, carefully clasping the other onto your hip… That familiar feeling of his outer coat against your fingertips, the familiarity of his angled form and soft smell overwhelmed you…

Slowly, as the music began and the two of you started to slowly float across the ballroom floor, nostalgia of those lovely moments shared resurfaced….

_You are my angel_

_And I believe you where sent from above_

_Showing me guidance with unconditional love_

_And I know that it's true…_

Oh, and how true it is. He was your comfort, your guide during the fear filled times. Unlike Dumbledore, he would always be frank, always be truthful. He did not plant seeds of hope, unlike the other teachers. His harshness seemed to frighten away any with the courage to approach him… his blackness, the sense of unending night that reigned supreme within him… But what he did give you was determination to go on, and the stone cold will to survive.

And aren't those things the true beginnings of hope?

_You are my best friend_

_I can't believe that you came into my life_

_Giving me strength and I feel so safe in your arms_

_I will come to no harm…_

How good it feels to have him hold you again, even if it is at such a distance!

You remember how he held you when you cried over the deaths of people whom you had known well, - when you had feared for those who where still amongst the living.

…When you had begun to mourn those whom you wished you had known better, people whom you had seen and spoken to for years, people who where gone now, forever…

This man, this cold, stubborn man… He was your heart. When he was there, there was a peace inside you. You knew he would not let you go down. Risking a glance to his face, you had seen it… You had seen it in his eyes…

_Every time you go away, I will follow you_

_When you're running scared_

And you hide away 

_I'm right beside you_

_I am there…_

He stiffens ever so slightly. You can feel his muscles tightening beneath your hand. Carefully, your own touch softens as thought to massage feeling into his frozen self. You look forlornly at his many buttons while you rest your head on his shoulder, saddened the scornful look that may be on his face…

You would follow him into the ends of the earth, to the beginning of time and back, if he asked you to. You remember the night, after the final battle, where he laid in the hospital room, broken and bleeding. You remember him asking why he was not dead, how you could have let him live. You remember taking his hand, so that it would be cupping your face. You remember pausing, sadness and hope sweeping over you.

You can still remember what you told him:

'Because I could not last here withought you.'

You remember his face. He knew all that you meant, today and tomorrow. How this meant forever. You remember. You lift your heard from his shoulder; and look into his eyes…

He remembers too.

_I have never been touched like this by another…_

_Or moved or kissed or loved by my lover…_

_Like you love me_

A soft smile comes to your face, as you gaze up at him.

All these feelings, all these memories, all of these thoughts, come streaming back into you, into your mind. You two sitting together at the lake, his eyes when he would see you in the dinning halls, his words to you when you where most alone, and did not need to fear unwelcome company. His eyes seem so uncertain, but so determined, while his face still holds his disdainful look…

_You are my angel_

_And I thank God that you came into my life_

_You are the one thing I see when I close my eyes…_

He turns his face away from you, looking away from your eyes.

…In the dark of the night 

For months, that has been true. Even more so now, now that you had thought it all to be over. You remember the things that came with being with him… how you had to hide away, how you constantly had to find covers for your lack of sleep, for the many nights you had spent talking…. Oh, with him, you where never challenged to dumb things down, you never had to fear the lack of understanding. With him, you could be you, to the fullest, most brilliant extent you could…

_Every time you go away, I will follow you_

_When you're running scared and you hide away_

_I'm right beside you_

_I am there…_

You carefully reach your head up to his ear. During the dance, you have somehow come closer and closer to each other, until there is almost no space between the two of you. His stillness is something you had almost forgotten, but now it seems almost as though nothing had ever changed, nothing had ever turned you from each other.

Your lips are just an inch from his ear. Your voice drops; this is for his ears alone. You can feel his heart, feel his breath. It seems to beat quicker then before. The closeness brings an explosion of joy to your heart asyou whisper:

"I am there…"

_I have never been touched like this by another…_

_Or moved or kissed or loved by my lover…_

_Like you love me_

_Like you love me…_

Its true. You have felt feelings before, but this, this was different, it would always be different. Suddenly, you realize you're shaking. This is so right, so pure, what you have together.

But being with him, touching him, just hearing his heartbeat in your ears, ringing, ringing… you may never feel this again. How can this be? How will you survive this?

Being with him like this… it makes you think of the times you had to say goodbye, a final goodbye, to those whom you'd loved, to those who where forever gone. But somehow this, this single goodbye, was harder.

You where both still alive. You would soon be free. At the stroke of midnight tomorrow, you would find your freedom.

You are so close now. So close.

So why does he chose to hold you two apart?

_You take me down, and bring me back again_

_You take me down and bring me back again_

_Take me down…_

You can take this sudden ache no longer.

You stop dancing

He freezes. His cool face makes your heart break.

You step away from him.

Why? Why does he look at you so? How dare he appear to show regret, if he is the one, the only one, keeping the two of you apart…

You're still shaking. You look down at your feet.

When you look up, he's still there, paused, waiting. Perhaps for a word, a declaration, an explanation…

How dare he look at you so. How dare you feel this, when he can just stand there like a gargoyle, withought movement, withought thought, withought the world shattering pain that has found you again and again these past nights.

How can he be before you and not feel all that has rushed through your veins!

What great power keeps him entombed, keeps everyone unaware of the forces of ice and fire that have threatened to consume you? What has caused this place to pause out of time, out of change, and still allow no other to know the truths of your voice, of your heart?

And still, despite it all, there it is. The movement of thought, of soul fleeing across his face. Some small piece of life that you had found in him, the things of which he was that had made you see him through new eyes. The light. The dark.

The love.

This is it. The end of all. The end of what you ever where.

The moment remains frozen. No one else seems to have noticed the two of you, your closeness, the feelings passing across your faces. No one.

You're fighting the tears. These may very well be the last words you share.

You still stare unblinking, memorizing his features - his hair lying across his face, the angled cheekbones, his long crooked nose, his thin pale lips… His eyes…

You take a shuddering breath:

"Now you know."

You look into his eyes, telling him with your heart all that you meant with your words. You can barely see straight for all of the memories flying through your mind.

Does he appear paler then before?

The tears. They are stronger then you now. You must leave this place, he cannot see you cry. You must leave him, and let him go…

Things blur. All seems fuzzy, as though all around you, people where only figures with masks. There are no others, there is no tomorrow, there is only now, and yesterday, and every moment before that you had spent in his company.

You turn away, your eyes still wishing to behold him until the very last moment

And then he is gone. You will see him no more.

To be continued…


End file.
